Note to self:

Do not eat beef jerky and protein bars simultaneously. Not only will you choke, but you’ll get some pretty gnarly breath afterward. Make an effort to get more protein for Baby through more socially acceptable channels. Preferably one that involves not eating meat with peanut butter nougats and chocolate. Learned the hard way

Miss your dear niece Marissa who is going to study abroad for the semester in Israel. Be jealous. Contemplate ways to hide in her suitcase. She needs a bigger suitcase

Revel the Nerd in Me as I re-read the 7th Harry Potter book. Work on my British accent. Reveling and accenting

Start a band on Rock Band and name it either Brilliantly Mental, Tense Toward the Chicken, or I Did Not Enter. Lean toward the chicken one. Leaning

Decide to like your new T because she wrote an email that says “If you survive therapy with me, you can be one of the few who can claim to survive my ass-kickings!” (Barely surviving said AK’s, but deciding to like)

Be excited for your first appt with the OB tomorrow. Be thrilled to see baby’s heartbeat, dissociate through the pap schmear part Thrilled but not for The Schmear

Feel so guilty I’ll pry burn in hell for these Pregnancy Lethargies. Burning

Crave crepes with powdered sugar (GET IN MY BELLY NOW) Craving

Be happy Angela (twin brother’s wife) is due with baby #1 a week before me, and sis-in-law Laura is due with #3 ONE day before me There will be a plethora of babies

Post a pic of burgeoning belly. (It’s growing, it’s growing!) Maybe

Noted

Because I am tender and the AC works super great.

I’m going to take pictures of our new house basement apartment and post pics, maybe this weekend – but probably not because I know me and I know how lame I am about trying to actually get online on the weekends. Early next week my friends!

Cade loves living at Gwandma Penny’s house. He knows he isn’t allowed to just traipse up the stairs any time and bug them without being invited, so if he thinks Mom and Dad are being boring (What?! Having a Harry Potter marathon is NOT boring. Caden calls Mommy and Daddy Harry Potter – in a British accent, I swear – because we are both wearing glasses when we watch it) he’ll stand at the bottom of the stairs and bellow up, “Gwandma! I wanna come up! Taden’s comin up!”) And he’s usually welcome to. :) [Pic: Caden Potter]

Hairy and Bobbi survived the move, but HATED the drive up. They were sharing a super-jumbo dog carrier, cuz they’re a little hefty, and Bobbi wsa on top of Hairy and they were both crying and I couldn’t shift my car into 4th gear because they were sitting on it and it was awkward and my armpits were sweating and prickling and I felt so bad for them and I kept saying “Mommy’s sorry, Mommy’s sorry, I’ll give you brave girls some string cheese, just hang in there Lovers!” They barely made it.

Hairy had a mental breakdown behind water storage, but they both seem to be bouncing back. I’m so proud of them. And Bobbi’s stopped eating her pubes, which is a monumental feat for the feline. I really think living with Whit made her eat them. Seriously. She started eating them when she moved in, stopped when we left. Odd cat. Don’t feel bad Whit!

The place is kind of like a snow cave, and despite the fact its 90 degrees out, I’m usually wearing a hoodie inside. This is not because I am underweight or have an eating disorder. This is because I am tender and the AC works super great.

There are tarantulas that live outside. I saw a baby one when we were moving in, and I’m like GREAT! HAPPY MOVING IN DAY, BRIE! LET’S GO PASS OUT FROM FRIGHT NOW AND THEN HATE YOUR LIFE LATER. There are also raccoons and mountain lions (but they should stay up higher in the mountains) and deer and stuff. When Cade wants to play in the backyard, he doesn’t say he wants to play outside, but rather he wants to play “IN THE WOODS.” Even he’s noticed how wild it is up there. So I’m a little freaked but coping.

Brandon is now in school a ton, and between working, I don’t see my mate until about 8 every night, which is super depressing and weird. This is gonna be tough!

Baby #2 is the size of a kidney bean and still hates blueberries. I don’t really know much more about it/her/him. It still doesn’t have any junk.

The end.

New E.D. MD

Had my first appt with the new ED doc yesterday. I'm praising Big Brother for GPS navigation, anti-nausea candy, and water-proof mascara, without which I would have never made it to my appt.

A few observations re: said appointment:

1. I had to get weighed in a HOSPITAL GOWN.
2. As in, I wasn't wearing any clothes.
3. And this was weird.
4. I had to get on the scale backward and the scale was like a double-wide with handles and could literally fit a suburban on it.
5. And this made me paranoid.

Why do I need to wear a gown? I mean, what does she think I'm packing?

What's that you say? Ankle weights?
Oh, yeah.
Woops.

Truisms

Stumbled across this on Facebook and had to share. I'm having a pretty mediocre day and really need chapstick, but when I came across this list of 35 Truisms, I totally forgot about the morning sickness eeking out of every pore and the creepy Fed Ex guy that does not make contact with my eyes when delivering packages at work, but a couple of things a little lower...

For example, how can this truism not only hit home but make you cackle?

Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

Click here to read them all. You won't regret it.

Honest Scrap

I’ve been nominated/tagged/chosen/whatever for the Honest Scrap Award by this kick-A blog, but have been too grumpy/infantile/busy with moving/pukey to get to it. But here I am! I accept! I’d like to thank all the Little People.

Here’s watcha do:

"This award is bestowed on a fellow blogger whose blog content or design is, in the giver's opinion, brilliant. This award is about bloggers who post from their heart, who often put their heart on display as they write. There are three rules that need to be followed on accepting this award:
1) Brag about it.
2) Select three blogs you find brilliant and link to them.
3) List 10 honest things about yourself.

Okay, step one, brag. I can do that. My blog is awesome and you’re kind of lame if you don’t like it, even though I’ve hardly blogged this past month and all I do is complain about my sore ta-tas and getting hit by the pukey truck. (I mainly had to add this to make sure I didn’t write an entire post without mentioning my pregnancy woes because then I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.)

Tag three brilliant b to the logs. Okay.

1. Tawny my sister’s. Her pics are amazing and her layout is fun and she’s supercute and supersweet and superfun.
My lil Piece of Cake. You know you want some!
My friends over at the Mormon Bachelor Pad. Sometimes they can be douche bags but they’re pretty cool. J

10 things about myself. Okay. I will try not to mention any pregnancy-related symptoms. It’ll be tough but I’ll take a wack at it!

1. As a kid I used to eat band aid wrappers. Not the outside wrapper, but the shiny, slippery parts that are on the adhesive parts of the band-aid. They were GOOOOOOD.
2. I once got hit in the head with a totally legit wooden bat at a birthday party as a kid. Apparently some other loser thought I was the piñata. At that same house, I also got attacked by a swarm of red ants. Yeah my mom didn’t want me to go over there anymore.
3. I passed out when I was getting my wedding photos taken. My dress was a corset and I had my mom yoink it as tight as she could so I looked skinny and bust-y and ooh la la. Halfway through the shoot I passed out and only woke after my mom loosened the corset and shoved almonds in my mouth. On my wedding day, it wasn’t pulled as tight which sucks but at least I didn’t faint all over my father-in-law or something.
4. My mom had a particular friend when I was growing up that scared the crap outta me because her laugh was uber loud. Whenever she’d come over I’d hide in the closet till she left. I have clear memories of my mom looking for me and I just hid and hid till she left. She’s actually really nice though. But seriously she totally had a cackle of fury. I was just a wee sensitive thing. But sad don’t you feel bad for me?
5. I swear like a sailor when I play Nintendo. When I die I take it personally and apologize profusely to Mario.
6. I have kissed guys who have the names of the gospels in the Old Testament. You know, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? I am inanely proud of this.
7. I pick my cat’s eye boogies because if I don’t, who will? Santa Claus?
8. I was the Secretary of my 7th grade class. My responsibilities included doing NOTHING but having my pic taken for the yearbook.
9. I used to think crimping my hair was cool. That was back when the 80’s had its grip on me. In the year 2001.
10. I have the following movies memorized, almost line for line: My Best Friend’s Wedding, Tommy Boy, Billy Madison, Juno, and Dumb & Dumber. As you can see I like really intellectual movies.

Thanks for the nomination! I forgot earlier to thank God and the Academy.

Grumpy

Today hates me. I hate it, too, so suck on that. Woke up late. My alarm said it was going off, but it wasn’t making any noise. Fantastic.

Cade decided to be constipated in the middle of the night, and alternated between grabbing his junk and saying, “IT HURTS ME!” to kicking me in the face.

Because my alarm didn’t go off, I got a late start to work, and in my new pad, I’m about 15 minutes farther from work anyway. I get halfway to the babysitter’s house, to only have some construction guy that is only a jerk because he gave me bad news tell me that the road was closed and I had to turn ALL THE WAY around. Did I mention I am already late? So I did a 7-point turn, and then sped off and I hope got dust in his bad-news bearing mouth.

Barely made it to work. My head hurts. My boobs hurt. I feel pukey. The first trimester of pregnancy is so horrible you can’t even be excited you’re knocked up because you’re too busy throwing up your vegan pizza and blueberry poptarts and complaining that when the wind changes your knockers hurt and you’re so tired you have the alertness and mental acuity of an infant.

I know all I do is complain. But when life hands me lemons, I write a blog, dangit. Okay?

We're Moving Because -

Hello lovers!

Okay, okay, so here’s why we’re moving:

Brandon is majoring in Mechanical Engineering which I don’t know much about other than the fact he’s super smart and can solve math equations that give me low self-esteem even looking at them. His classes are really difficult, and he’s had to take only a couple classes at a time because he’s been working for The Man full-time, and between that and school and homework, the poor trooper has been running on empty and frustrated. SO Husband is stepping down as manager of [company where he works.] He is going to still work there, but not have the managerial duties and work only 25ish hours a week. He is going to go to school hard-core, like it’s going out of style, and work less – which means we’ll make less green stuff. So, because of that, the house we’re living in currently is going to be rented out, and we’re going to hold our heads high while we move into my parental unit’s house. They’ve got a nice basement apartment, and we’re totally scoring because they’re not going to charge us rent and we can glean them for their internet and cable. That way Big Bster can finish school much faster and we can be rich much faster and then I’ll go on a shopping spree and take off my shirt and do an Irish jig. It’s all planned out.

So we’re moving this Saturday cuz school starts on Monday, and The Husband doesn’t want to try to move while being smart and swamped at school. So yes I’m 25 and am moving in with my parents. I’m such a shining star. But Mum’s a really good cook, I like her tacos. Shining Stars like tacos.

Yesterday I saw a pink Volkswagen Beetle in the parking lot at work. I totally want to own it. Or at least hump it.

I Can’t Move, but we are Moving

We are moving on Saturday. As in, relocating from our little house on the prairie. Yes, as in this Saturday. In four days time.

I can’t see the carpet in my bedroom because it is littered with clothes, underwear, blankets, towels, cats, cat hair, books, shoes, pregnancy tests, a couple of balloons left over from my birthday that eluded me when I was popping their friends, a suitcase, tissues (used and new) and some toys. (Although, dear readers, in my defense, most of the clothes on my floor are in fact CLEAN – or, at least they used to be. I hate putting away laundry.)

The sink is full of dirty dishes, and both Brandon and I send evil telepathic messages to each other, trying to get the other to bite the adult thing to do bullet and wash them. I am entirely prepared to offer a sexual favor in return for the dishes getting washed. Today.

We have packed exactly one box, and by we, I mean Brandon. He packed up our DVD’s. Yay.

Cade’s room doesn’t stay clean for more than 4 minutes. He’ll sweetly ask me or Brandon to help him clean his room, which is totally adorable, only he wants it clean so he can gleefully trash it again. I’ve given up.

I have pregnancy fatigue. Doing something other than sitting, or preferably lying down, is totally unappealing. My legs and arms feel like jelly. I’m hormonal.

I don’t want to move.

Anyone wanna come help? I’m totally good for sexual favors and/or cash in return for some good, legit muscles that are ready to move.

Cuz I’m not.

Pregnancy Update

Thanks for all the congrats and well wishes, readers. Big B and I are very excited. :)

I found out a few weeks ago; I’m not very far along, only about 7 weeks. Thing #2 is only the size of a blueberry, and consequently, makes eating blueberries impossible. I was going to try to wait till I was out of my first trimester to tell everybody, but let’s be honest, I’ve been consumed with thoughts of my pregnancy, and of being sick due to the pregnancy, and I haven’t had anything else to blog about as a result. My chances of miscarrying are quite slim now, (about 5%) so I figure I’m pretty safe.

We’re excited to finally be pregnant again, but I’m thinking it’s kind of lame how sick I feel. With Cade, I swear it wasn’t quite so intense all the time. My morning sickness is worse; I pee like Seabiscuit, and don’t even get me started on how badly my breasticles hurt. SERIOUSLY if you even look at them in a hostile way they will start to ache. Be gentle with them, Big B sure has to haha.

Also, I cry a lot more, and tend to lose it when small children crap their pants. And I’m hungry. Like, ravenous. This is an entirely good thing, I realize. I am partaking, don’t you worry.

No one else can tell yet, but I can totally tell I’m getting a baby bump – Brandon can too. My tummy isn’t quite so flat…it’s getting a bit rounded, and I’m shocked at how fast it’s coming and also I was looking at maternity clothes online and wanted to puke and/or cry because I can’t believe I’m going to have to start sporting said clothes in the near future. I’m going to look tent-like. But I’m ready, it’ll be good. Right? I'm not fat, I'm pregnant!

So there it is. If anybody knows where I can buy long maternity jeans, give me a holler. I need at least a 35 ½” inseam, and for real freaking out because I can’t find any that’ll fit my stems. I might have to pull a Juno and have my mom sew an elastic band into my jeans. Just kidding, I’d never ruin my beautiful designer jeans in that manner!!

P.S. I just threw up my blueberry muffin poptarts. DO NOT PARTAKE OF BLUEBERRY POPTARTS while you are pregnant. Gross. And I even had to do it at the public bathroom at work and get my face all close to the toilet and stuff…icky icky. And it was blue. I mean my vomit. Crap. Now I’m hungry again. Suck what should I eat? The vending machines? Take out? Will my boss let me leave to procure food before I turn into Momzilla and eat HIM? The dilemmas, the dilemmas…moan groan lament wail gnash teeth cry. Sigh.

"That's the third test today, Mama Bear."

I can't hide it anymore.
I'm pregnant!!

Last night went something like this:

We sat down to dinner.
Cade started crying.
Nephew #1 started yelling.
Nephew #2 hid under the table.
My anxiety rose.
My dad laughed, because there was nothing else to do.
Brandon commented that he didn’t think I’d eaten enough.
I punched him in the leg.
Nephew #2 wouldn’t stop poking Cade.
Cade screamed.
My anxiety rose.
We’re talking to Mom and Dad.
Cade is playing on the floor.
Nephews 1 and 2 are outside.
Nephew #1 comes inside and gleefully announces that Nephew #2 crapped his pants.
My mom sighs in exasperation.
My dad laughs.
Brandon laughs.
My anxiety rises.
I start to cry.
We eat chocolate cake. I have a big piece because I know I’m going to be sick anyway.
We get in the car to drive home.
I start to cry again.
Brandon laughs.
I punch him.
We get home.
Tummy very sick.
I feel like I’m going to crap my pants (but don’t.)
I sleep.
Am very glad this night is over.

No Bueno

You guys, I’m sorry, I have nothing. No desire to blog, to do anything. Friday I got hit by the pukies truck three times, (ralphing up french toast might be the most revolting thing EVER) and this weekend let’s just say Diarrhea came to play. A lot.

I haven’t been feeling very bueno lately. I’m super tired and super lazy and we’re getting ready to move (again) and life is pretty hectic.

So be patient with me, friendcicles. I’ll be around in a bit.
After I go throw up.

I'm it.

Tag, I’m it. 10 Random questions about me.

1. Do you have Flinstone or Jetson toes? Both. Fat like Flinstone, long like Jetson. I’m serious. Ask my sisters. Just as some people have long bum cracks, I have long toes. I’m kind of ashamed.
2. What did you have for breakfast? I’m totally man-handling a granola bar as we speak, washed down with a Diet Pepsi.
3. Do you name things? If so, what is the name of your car? My car’s name is Stella. My cell phone is Francis. My bike is Mrs. Peterson. So yes. I name everything; I’m kind of freaky like that.
4. What do you want for Christmas? Hrrrm. I think I want Photoshop. Or maybe tidings of comfort and joy?
5. Favorite movie quote: currently, it is from Juno.
Store clerk: “That’s the third test today, Mama Bear. Your eggo is prego.”
Juno: “The plus sign looked more like a division symbol, so I remain unconvinced.”
Girl shopping: “It’s really easy to tell. Is your nipples real brown?”
God bless the writers, producers, and director of that movie - and Ellen Page herself - for providing me endless laughs and entertainment.
6. What are some of your phobias? Pee air, hair on soap, in the shower, in a hairbrush, or in the sink – even if it is my own. I’ll dry heave if I see it, I mean it. Also, wet/dirty hands and feet.
7. If you had to change your hair color, what would you change it to? Erm. I’d pry go darker, maybe straight black, or perhaps Addyson Montgomery red. Anything but blonde, really.
8. What is your dream job? Um, I wanna be a trophy wife.
9. What Hollywood star do you think is hot? Shia LaBeouf, Will Smith, and let’s be honest – Jillian Michaels.
10. Are you embarrassed that you have nothing better to do than fill out this survey?
Yes. Deeply.

I tag: everybody! I’m bored, do it so I can read it.

Three Years Ago, Today

I was preparing to push the 'lil guy out my vag. I was still under the illusion that after I got an epidural, labor wouldn’t suck. It does.

And FYI, it still hurts. Even with an epidural. (They lie, they lie!)

I was lying in the hospital bed, feeling pukey and weird – but elated – and had a towel stuffed down there to catch my leaky water. I was excited.

And then once I was fully dilated, I was no longer excited. I was in pain, and I was pissed.

I also might have been hallucinating and insisted I had "pulsating balls." (True story.)

And, after hours of pushing, having my epidural taken away…after hours of crying and being in agony…

out came my son.

My Cade.

He didn’t cry when he was born. The doctors from the NICU were in my room, prepared for a sick child, and they were concerned. But my doctor said, quite cheerfully, “Nah, don’t worry. He’s a Celexa baby. Celexa babies are always relaxed when they come out!” And I looked at him, I looked him in his beautiful blue eyes, and knew that life was Good, it had meaning.

August 4, 2006 was a good day. The best they come, in fact.

Happy birthday, buddy. Let’s celebrate by laughing and blowing bubbles and going on a bike ride and eating cake and giving Eskimo kisses and opening that tractor you’ve been begging for.

I can’t wait.